


Glimpses Of The Multiverse

by HaishiTheWriter



Category: Magic: The Gathering (Card Game)
Genre: Character Study, F/F, F/M, Gen, Headcanon, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Shorts, various topics
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-07
Updated: 2020-04-07
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:07:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23534296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HaishiTheWriter/pseuds/HaishiTheWriter
Summary: There are many stories to be told across the planes. Some tragic. Some humorous. Some both. Some neither. Some everything in-between and others outside. But nevertheless, they should be told.Just a bunch of short pieces I write to try and give a bit more fleshing out to characters and locations in the moments that we don't see them pop up in the story.
Kudos: 2





	Glimpses Of The Multiverse

Here they were, once again staring at each other. Weapons in hand, heavy breathing, clothes torn and bloodstained. It would be deserving of being called a spectacle if it wasn’t for the fact that this event has played out numerous times before. 

  
Sorin Markov, the vampire lord of Innistrad, face one of exasperation and anger, looked at TIbalt, the half-devil upstart that had managed to receive his ire once again. Sorin was never one to tolerate impudence or disregard lightly, if at all, so these fights with Tibalt were rather frequent. TIbalt, a smirk on his lips, his eyes shining with madness that only comes from having a mind as twisted as his, twirled his dagger in his hand, waiting for the vampire to make another move.    
  
“You know how this will end, you cur. Cease this childish farce before I slay you.” the Lord of Innistrad said, his voice loud and demanding without effort, making sure that his opponent knew that he was done with this foolishness. “Oh? Getting tired, are we, Sorin? You know, women hate men that can’t last.” Tibalt snarked, his smirk turning into a grin.   
  
The vampire sneered at the half-fiend’s crude humor. “I see that even with all the times that I’ve beaten you, you still haven’t managed to learn how to abandon your infantile sense of jocularity.” “Come off of it, you old bastard. You should be flattered I’m wasting my efforts on trying to make you see the humor in this.” Sorin’s glare deepened, his thoughts made a haste of fury at the sheer insolence of Tibalt’s lack of seriousness of the current situation. “What might you be thinking, vampire?” TIbalt’s voice broke Sorin out of his head. “I’m thinking of the perfect way to dissect you.” “Oho! Great minds think alike, it seems. And here I thought that you had no appreciation for my art.”   
  
Tibalt knew good and well that the fact that Sorin hated what he did whenever he got his hands on a victim was the core reason why they fought in the first place. Tibalt, however, also viewed it as a chance to test out a hypothesis he had. Sorin may have had rules and defenses in place that were to preserve the humans (which was entirely for the purpose that Sorin and his fellow nocturnal feeders wouldn’t run out of their food source, as it were), but even he was, on a grand scale, a lawless person. And while TIbalt may see that, and as much as he wants Sorin to see that, it’s not his main theory. No, what his primary thought process contained was a statement that would make Sorin absolutely boil over in rage, and TIbalt couldn’t wait to see him do so.   
  
“Your  _ art _ ” Sorin began, his disgust and contempt for Tibalt’s phrasing made clear by his tone “has put many of the citizens of Innistrad in harm’s way, and that, I shall not allow, regardless of how some twisted halfling may view his actions.” “Yes, the  _ citizens _ .” Tibalt’s mocking meant to reflect Sorin’s disgust. “You mean the cattle that you and your other bloodsucking consorts keep inside of pins disguised as ‘safe havens’. Feh.” “You truly don’t understand the position that you’re in, do you? I could at a moment’s notice end your miserable blight of an existence. I wouldn’t even drink your filthy blood. I fear that it would make me develop poor taste.” TIbalt huffed out a laugh. “Oh please, you couldn’t kill me even if you had the undeniable desire to, and I’m sure we both know why.” Sorin fangs bear themselves, his anger striving to reach a pitch. “And what may that reason be, you rabble?”   


  
Tibalt’s grin turned rictus. “The fact that you have become impotent in your title. You have become so bogged down by morality and what certain others think that you have decided to hold back. In short” the fiend’s eyes light up in sadistic glee (or perhaps it was masochistic, who could really say) “you’ve gone soft, Sorin Markov.”

With speed that only a creature of the night could wield, Sorin had his hand around TIbalt’s throat, lifting the red-skinned torturer into the air. The lord’s face was one of complete and utter fury, but TIbalt’s was only filled with mirth. Sorin spoke in a dark tone, one that would make most tremble in fear. “I have not gone soft.” 

Tibalt was not most. “Yes you have. How else do you explain the fact that you didn’t kill me just now?”

Sorin’s mind immediately stuck to that question. It rattled around in his head, nonstop, at such a high speed that it would make a psychic’s eyes spin. He let go of TIbalt, making him fall to the ground, coughing and laughing in the same breaths.

  
“You are to leave. Now.” Sorin said, walking away while sheathing his sword. Tibalt stood up, dusting himself off. “Looks like I hit a nerve. I guess we’ll have to do this dance again so that you can prove me wrong later.” TIbalt walked away, his smile stuck.    
  
Both of them knew that they would fight again. But perhaps next time, Sorin would have a thought he wanted to prove about TIbalt.   
  
What a strange song and dance these two did.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed. Review and kudos if you want. 
> 
> Planeshifting,  
> Haishi


End file.
